


Finding Peace

by Maxine_Gold



Series: Partners [2]
Category: The Mentalist
Genre: Alternate Ending, Established Relationship, F/M, What-If, brief mention of suicidal thoughts, but I promise it has a happy ending, starts kind of morose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-06
Updated: 2020-02-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:08:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22580779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maxine_Gold/pseuds/Maxine_Gold
Summary: What if Lisbon and Jane were in a relationship when Jane finally killed Red John?  What if he had to run without her?  And when they find each other again, will things be the same between them?This is technically a sequel/epilogue to my story Undercover, but it can be read alone.
Relationships: Patrick Jane/Teresa Lisbon
Series: Partners [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1624810
Comments: 8
Kudos: 132





	Finding Peace

“Lisbon, it's over. It's done. I just want you to know I'm okay. I'm gonna miss you.” 

There’s so much more he wants to say, but he doesn’t. He can’t. It’s likely that Lisbon won’t be the only one to listen to that message. He hopes she’s okay. He hopes they all are. The team doesn’t know anything - Jane had made sure of that. He had deliberately kept Cho, Rigsby, and Van Pelt in the dark and at arm's length. They couldn’t be held accountable for things they didn’t know. Even Lisbon didn’t know everything. She knew more than most, but there were details he had kept even from her. To protect her.

He had to run now. Lisbon knew that. She also knew he had to run alone - for now. Many late nights had been spent discussing different scenarios. Lisbon knew the score. Still, Jane knew it wouldn’t be easy for her. It wasn’t easy for him either.

In the aftermath, he wanted nothing more than to feel her arms around him. He felt cold. There was a hollowness inside him. Something had been snuffed out when he watched the life go out of Thomas McAllister’s face. A fire, perhaps. The fire that had fueled him all these years. He’d hoped that once it was gone, something else would take its place. He’d hoped that a sense of peace would wash over him, filling in the cracks, all the places he was broken, all the missing bits of him. Maybe it was just too soon. Maybe peace would come later.

He gets out of the country, slipping through the ever-closing fist of the FBI. He settles on his chosen island, and one of the first things he does there is pen a letter to Lisbon. He’s not sure how to get it to her yet, but he’ll figure it out.

He tries to tell her something about Red John, about how it all ended, but the words won’t come. His pen hovers over the blank page, immobilized. He tries, instead, to tell her how he feels about her. He can’t seem to do that either.

He writes “I miss you” and stares at it. It looks wrong. It’s trite and hollow - as hollow as he feels inside. He puts that paper aside and pulls out a blank one.

He tells her about the island, about his modest apartment - barely more than a room. He makes friends with the locals and tells her about them. He spends a great deal of time sitting on the beach, staring out at the ocean.

Peace tries to settle over him, but it’s broken by the pain of missing her. They had known it would have to be this way. If she couldn’t run with him, if they were separated, they would have to wait. He knew she couldn’t leave the country without alerting the FBI. It wasn’t himself he was worried about - the extradition laws would protect him - but if they thought Lisbon was going to join him in exile… He didn’t know what they would do to her, and he didn’t want to find out.

Besides, extradition laws or no, he didn’t want to test the FBI’s vindictiveness. That Abbott fellow had seemed like the sort of morally rigid lawman type who would arrest his own mother if she stepped out of line. Lisbon had been a bit like that when Jane first met her. She’d also had that unbending belief in the law as absolute, with no grey areas. That had softened over the course of their relationship, and sometimes Jane wondered if he was a good influence or a bad one. Maybe if he spent time with that Abbott guy he could soften him up too. He doubted he would ever get the chance to find out. He had no illusions about what would happen to him if he ever tried to go home.

So he waited.

Lisbon would know when it was safe for her to join him, and there was nothing he could do to speed up the process. He kept writing to her, and even though he could never bring himself to pen the words “I love you” or “I miss you”, he hoped that she felt those sentiments in all the things he did write.

It was some time before he got a reply from her.

When it came, the words were as empty of anything real as his had been. He read between the lines as best he could - harder to do with ink and paper than micro-expressions and body language - and found that what she didn’t say was more telling than what she did.

She said that she and the rest of the team were alright. She didn’t say what deals they’d had to make to be alright. She said that Van Pelt and Rigsby were talking about starting their own security company; something tech based that would cater to Van Pelt’s talent with computers. She said that Cho was considering the FBI. As for herself, she wasn’t sure yet. She thought she might go to Chicago, stay with one of her brothers for a while. She didn’t say that she was tainted for any job in law enforcement now. She didn’t say that she had fallen on her sword to protect the others, to give them a chance at starting over.

_Too cold for the beaches in Chicago,_ she wrote, _but then, I never took the time to go to the beach anyway. You’ll have to soak in the sun and the waves for both of us. It sounds wonderful._

He read the longing in those words. The desire to run to him. Or maybe he just hoped it was longing. Maybe, it was actually relief.

He kept writing. Some days, he thought the writing was the only thing keeping him sane. Everything he did was through the prism of what-would-Lisbon-do? When he ordered at his favorite restaurant, he wondered what she would choose. When he walked along the beach, he wondered if she would enjoy collecting shells or simply stand and let the water wash over her feet as she sank into the sand with each receding tide.

She wrote less often, maybe one letter to every three of his, and mostly about how her brothers were driving her crazy. She gave him updates on Cho and Rigsby and Van Pelt. She said very little about herself.

And then, one day, the letters stopped coming.

* * *

8 months, 2 weeks, and 3 days after he killed Red John, Jane found himself sitting barefoot on the beach, re-reading her last letter. It had been almost two months since he received it, and he was trying, desperately, to see if there was something he had missed. Why had she stopped writing?

But he couldn’t find anything unusual, anything that would tell him that something had changed. He re-folded it carefully and stared out at the ever-crashing waves.

_Lisbon, where have you gone?_

The hollowness in his chest ached with a feeling so cold it burned.

He stayed there until the sun began to set before finally making his way back down the beach toward his apartment. He still had the letter clutched in his hand, lost in his own thoughts when he rounded the corner and saw her.

She was sitting on the stairs of his building, a suitcase beside her. She wasn’t looking in his direction yet; was, instead, scanning the street, watching the various hustle and bustle of activity. He had frozen in place and stood staring at her in the fading light, not quite believing that what he saw was real. Her hair was a little longer than when he had seen her last and she was wearing a sundress. When he had thought of her over the last 8 months, he had always pictured her in her usual work outfits - trousers, blouse, sensible shoes. That she should be wearing a dress, looking like any other carefree tourist on this sunny island, warmed the cold space in his chest. She reached up to brush her hair out of her eyes, and saw him. She froze for a moment, and then a slow smile lit up her face.

He started toward her and she stood to meet him.

“Hey you,” she said.

“Hey,” he said. He wanted to take her in his arms, to kiss her and hold her and tell her he was never letting her go again. But he just stood there, staring at her, still not quite believing.

“Maybe we should go in?” she said, nodding at the building behind her.

“Of course.”

* * *

She studied the tiny space while he made them both tea. She touched the desk where he had penned so many letters to her, fingers brushing over the spines of the small collection of books there. She smoothed the sheets on the bed and sat, picking up the book on the bedside table and leafing through it. He watched her warily, ready to look away should her attention turn to him. She stood and went out on the small balcony where his plants lived.

He poured two cups of tea and followed her. She was leaning on the railing, looking out at the street below. The sky was nearly full dark now, just a glimmer of red near the horizon. Artificial lights were coming on in every window, reflecting onto the street, lighting it up. She turned to him and he handed her a cup.

They leaned on the railing and sipped their tea. Jane kept his eyes on the glittering lights below while she studied his face, giving her time to look him over as he had done to her.

“You look different,” she said at last.

“It’s the beard,” he replied, scratching at the facial hair in question.

“It’s not the beard,” she said, shaking her head.

“What is it then?” he said, looking her in the eye at last.

“I’m not sure yet.”

“Is it important?” he asked after a pause. She looked into his eyes another few heartbeats, then shook her head.

“I guess not,” she said softly. She set her cup on the railing, took his from him and did the same. She took his hand, turning him so he was fully facing her. She reached up to cup his face, fingers smoothing over the beard. She drew him to her, tipping her own face up to meet him. He hesitated, his lips hovering over hers less than a breath away. And then he kissed her and it was like coming back to life.

* * *

She wakes in the early morning; Jane, still asleep beside her in the narrow bed. She can’t remember ever seeing Jane asleep in a bed before. She had seen him nap on his couch, but this was different somehow. She watches him, the slow rise and fall of his chest, the softness of his features. His face relaxed, vulnerable.

She eases out of the bed, trying not to disturb him. It was really too small for the both of them - they were going to have to fix that. She finds a robe on a hook in the bathroom and pulls it around her, then puts the kettle on, and steps out onto the balcony to breathe the morning air. The sun was just barely up, it's warm glow settling over the quiet street. It really was beautiful here.

They hadn’t done much talking last night, but that was alright. Talking would come. First, there were the practicalities to deal with; like finding a bigger place to live. Lisbon had managed to bring nearly all her savings with her, and she knew Jane could always get money (he had a gift for it), so they wouldn’t lack for funds.

Her journey there had been a long one. She hadn’t wanted to travel directly, afraid that the FBI were still keeping a close eye on her, so she had gone circuitously. Everywhere she could take a boat instead of a plane, she had. Boats were easier to slip onto anonymously. She hated boats. She got seasick, and spent most of her time in her room feeling miserable. But she had made it, and they were together again, so it had all been worth it.

She hears him stirring inside and a moment later he appears on the balcony. His hair is decidedly ruffled, curls going in all directions. He smiles at her and she decides she likes the beard.

* * *

They get a bigger place - not huge - but with enough room for the both of them, and still with a balcony. Jane seems perfectly content to spend his days idly, especially now that Lisbon is with him, but she needs more. Lisbon has never been good at being idle. She rents an office space and hangs a sign on the door “Private Investigator - Investigador Privado”. She doesn’t have many clients; the occasional cheating spouse, or a tourist trying to recover a stolen bag. She has to be careful seeing as she doesn’t actually have a license, but as long as she doesn’t make too much of a fuss, the police look the other way.

Sometimes Jane helps, sometimes he doesn’t. Some of her clients pay her cash, but a lot of them barter, which is fine with her. She’s not doing it for the money anyway. One time, a kid comes to her about a lost dog. She manages to track the dog down and the kid is so grateful he tells everyone in the neighborhood. Suddenly, she has a reputation for finding lost pets. It’s a far cry from hunting hardened criminals, but it occupies her time.

* * *

What she said to him that first night is true: Jane is different. She has a difficult time pinpointing exactly what it is that’s different about him. He’s quieter; a little more settled maybe. She hesitates to say that he’s healed. He lost his wife. He lost his daughter. Killing Red John didn’t change that. But she likes to think he’s found a kind of peace. When he smiles at her, his whole face lights up, and the shadows that used to permanently haunt his eyes are smaller and not quite so dark.

Their lovemaking is somehow both more intense and more relaxed all at the same time. The intensity of the emotion between them is overwhelming, but it also feels freer; like there had been some weight hanging over them before, and now it was lifted.

Jane still doesn’t sleep well, but then, neither does Lisbon sometimes. They cope with the nightmares, drawing comfort from each other.

It’s a while before Jane talks about what happened. Lisbon knows the basics. The FBI filled her in on what they found and what they suspected had transpired. She knew McAllister was shot and there had been a chase on foot. She knew the chase ended in a park a ways from the cemetery and that McAllister had been strangled to death. Jane filled in some of the missing details, and once - late at night and after several drinks - he said something about what it felt like to kill Red John with his bare hands. He said that as he watched the life leave his eyes he’d felt something in him leave as well. He confessed that it had scared him at first, feeling that emptiness. That he was afraid that hunting Red John had taken too much space for too long, and without it he would shatter, collapse around the sudden void.

And then he told her something that made her blood run cold. He told her he had picked up the gun and that for a second - just a second - he had almost put it to his own head.

The second passed, and instead, he placed the gun in McAllister’s hand. He’s not sure why - he knew they would never buy a self-defense plea.

Lisbon doesn’t know if Jane actually remembers telling her all of this. He never mentions it again, and she doesn’t bring it up.

They’re happy now, she thinks, so what does it matter? Let the past be the past.

* * *

When Agent Abbott does finally track them down it’s with a job offer. Lisbon’s surprised at first, but later thinks she shouldn’t have been. Of course they want Jane to work for them: he closes cases. Isn’t that what she always said when someone questioned why he was allowed to run amok at the CBI?

Jane wouldn’t go without Lisbon, though. Truthfully, she wasn’t sure he really cared about going back at all. She knew he missed the mental stimulation of catching killers, but she also knew that it was never supposed to be a lifetime gig for him. He wasn’t like her or Abbott. If Red John hadn’t killed his family he would never have joined the CBI. Not as a consultant anyway, he might have offered his services as a psychic, but that would have done more to serve his needs than any real sense of injustice. She hadn’t known him Before, but she had seen what he was like when he lost his memory. She liked to think that who he had _really_ been Before was something in between who he was now and that unrepentant charlatan. Having no memories of his family _must_ have changed him more than just forgetting the tragic circumstances of their deaths.

Still, she knew catching killers wasn’t really the life he’d dreamed of. But he would do it for her. If she asked him, he would do it.

She wasn’t sure if she should ask him. If she was being honest, she wanted to go back. Happy as she was with him, she had always wanted to be in law enforcement since she was a little girl. She wanted to do something meaningful, something that might make a difference. And she was good at it. And, for all that he drove her crazy sometimes, she loved working with Jane.

But she didn’t want to force him. They were happy, and she was afraid that if they went back it might destroy the peace they had fought for so long together. Hadn’t she already decided to leave the past in the past? If they went back, would it dredge all the old pain to the surface again?

When she read the terms of the agreement it made her mind up for her. There was no way she would let Jane go home just to become an indentured servant to the FBI with the threat of indictment and jail time constantly hanging over his head.

She pointed this out to him and he just laughed.

“Of course I’m not going to accept these terms, Lisbon,” he said. “They will agree to my terms or no deal. First order of business: you. If I get a job then you do too.” He grinned at her with that mad, mischievous grin, eyes lit up with excitement at the challenge. It had been a long time since she had seen that kind of fire in him and she hated to throw water on it but…

“Jane, it’s the FBI. You can’t con your way into the FBI.”

“Why not?”

“Jane.”

“Lisbon, trust me.”

* * *

Jane and Abbott came to some agreement and Lisbon found herself on a plane headed to Texas. She was still unsure this was the best course of action, but she was putting her trust in Jane - he’d earned that much.

It blew up in their faces almost immediately. Jane and Lisbon were both sent to private detention suites; Lisbon for obstruction of justice (they said she had obviously known where Jane was, and by not telling the FBI she had impeded the investigation), but Jane for much more serious charges.

They came to her with a deal immediately: get Jane to cooperate and her charges would be dropped. They’d even give her a job, just like Jane wanted.

She refused.

She didn’t care what they did to her, she wasn’t going to force Jane into a bad deal.

They let her talk to him anyway, but all he would tell her was to trust him.

* * *

Three weeks in a detention suite, cut off from Jane, and Lisbon was ready to go crazy. Fortunately, a case came up that only Jane could handle and they were both going to work on it on a trial basis.

Seeing him for the first time in three weeks made her stomach ache. She wanted to hold him, to kiss him, to tell him he was a stubborn idiot and that she loved him anyway. She couldn’t do any of that with the FBI watching, so she contented herself with standing near enough to feel the heat of him.

Cho was a welcome sight, and at learning that he would be part of the team something relaxed in her gut. Maybe this Abbott guy wasn’t so terrible after all. Maybe Jane knew what he was doing. She hoped so.

Jane pulled off his usual shenanigans, including a daring escape. She would be worried, but she knew he would never leave her behind. This had to be part of the plan.

She was right, and when it was all over, Jane got everything he asked for. 

_Cheeky bastard_ , she thought fondly as they grinned at each other.

* * *

Everything was back to normal. Well, mostly. It wasn’t quite the same as being at the CBI with the team, but close enough. Cho was with them, and Lisbon found that she liked the others as she got to know them. She even got to like Abbott, who turned out to be a decent guy after all. She could already see him falling under Jane’s spell, which did away with the last of her fears.

They were safe.

They were together.

Nothing and no one could tear them apart now.

She swiveled her chair around to look at Jane on his couch behind her. He looked up and caught her eye. They smiled at each other.

Jane jumped up, took the two steps to her chair and leaned down to press his lips against hers.

“Jane!” she said breaking away and looking around nervously. “We said not at the office.”

“Meh, let them talk…” He bent to capture her lips once more and Lisbon couldn’t help but smile against him. Kissing in the office: not her most professional move, but she suddenly found that she didn’t care. They weren’t exactly keeping their relationship a secret - she had run away to an island with him after all - and Jane was right: if people wanted to talk, let them talk. She slid a hand through his hair and deepened the kiss.

When they pulled apart, Jane looked at her and she knew exactly what he was thinking.

“No Jane,” she said, “I draw the line at sex in the office.”

“Why not? I’m sure we could find an empty-”

“Jane.”

“Oh all right. No sex at the office,” he said, but the look he gave her told her that he hadn’t really given up, just tabled the argument for now.

“Lisbon, Jane,” said Cho, interrupting. “If you’re done, we have a case.” They looked up at him, Jane straightening from where he had been leaning with his hands on the armrests of Lisbon’s chair.

“We’re done,” Jane said, “for now.” Cho grunted an acknowledgment and turned to head into the fishbowl where everyone was waiting to discuss the latest case. Lisbon ran her hands through her hair, trying to ignore the blush she felt spreading over her face. She scowled up at Jane, but he just grinned wider and offered her a hand up. She ignored it and stood on her own, following Cho without a backward glance.

Jane chuckled quietly behind her.

“Lisbon, Jane, nice of you to join us,” Abbott said as they entered. He was grinning almost as widely as Jane. Everyone else at least had the decency to try hiding their smiles by ducking their heads and not meeting her eyes. Lisbon felt the heat on her face turn up a notch and she wished the floor would swallow her up. “Hope we aren’t interrupting anything,” Abbott continued.

“Nothing that can’t be continued later,” Jane said behind her. She elbowed him in the stomach and heard him expel a breath in a quiet “oof”. Everyone was practically shaking with laughter now, even Cho was hiding a smile behind his hand.

“Can we talk about the case now?” Lisbon asked, taking her seat and crossing her arms over her chest.

“Of course,” said Abbott, still grinning. They turned their attention to the details of the case, and everyone settled and got back to business.

Lisbon glanced at Jane to find him looking at her. He raised an eyebrow and cocked his head to the side, silently asking if she was really mad. She wasn’t. Not really. How could she be mad when she was so happy? She shook her head minutely, a smile tugging at her lips.

She turned her attention back to Abbott. A little while later, she felt Jane take her hand under the table. She didn’t look at him, but she squeezed his hand a little.

They stayed that way, holding hands for the rest of the meeting, only breaking apart when everyone got up to start working the case. She looked at him then, and saw the love and happiness she felt reflected back at her.

They were together, about to solve a mystery and catch a killer.

Everything was right with the world.

**Author's Note:**

> Guess I couldn't stay away. Thank you to everyone who commented on "Undercover" you inspired me to keep writing, and find this piece that was waiting to be told. I think this is really it: all I have to say in the Mentalist fandom. I'd like to think there was more in me, but probably not. Sorry. Thanks for sticking with me, your support has been amazing! Thank you.


End file.
